


i won't tell anyone how your voice is my favourite sound

by ntlpurpolia



Category: Six of Crows - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 14:18:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9903458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ntlpurpolia/pseuds/ntlpurpolia
Summary: Kaz misses Inej, and finds her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My first try at an SoC fic after reading all the brilliantly ones on this site. Title from Parachute by Ingrid Michaelson.

Kaz Brekker didn't need a reason, they whispered. ( _Or Inej_ , his mind whispered.) He needed only his cane. That was the enigma he'd wrapped so tightly around himself that it had _become_ him.

Then why were the rain-slicked streets of Ketterdam suddenly so much emptier, the wallets and purses of every pigeon and cozy and fool suddenly far less appealing without her - _Inej_ and her Suli proverbs, the silent comfort of her and her blades, high above him physically and morally, or cloaked in shadows he could not glimpse but could feel, her presence as tangible as the cold and wind and damp that Ketterdam was steeped in?

Every scam he was running, every tangled con he wove at every waking moment, felt the same, driving him towards the same purpose, revenge and greed, but it was more difficult to keep his mind on them without her there, without the light she cast on the dark parts of him. It shouldn't have made sense that someone so small, so good at staying hidden, had an absence that pressed against him like salt to an open wound.

He walked up the stairs of the Slat, cane thumping noisily on every step and leg creaking as much as the boards. It was a comfort and a reminder, to have people know he was coming and pull their possessions a little closer, to hear his step and flinch away. The day had been satisfying, secrets collected and shame exploited, the Barrel's rumour mill churning out even more malicious lines about the ever-worsening Kaz Brekker.

Once he made it to his dilapidated desk, not allowing himself to groan in relief (but wanting to. If Inej were here he would, if Inej were here _he would_ a lot of things.) She was not his weakness, but she knew the worst of them, and that was just as bad. She was not a lot of things, not Heleen Van Houden's lynx nor someone to be underestimated nor _his_.  

  
She was out there, the Wraith, sending slavers wrath they couldn't see coming, bringing a whole new meaning to the phrase _hell or high water_. Inej would be hell _on_ high water, Captain of her own craft, never again under someone's control, the exact opposite of helpless.

He was proud in ways he shouldn't be, glad in ways he didn't want to be, aching in ways he didn't want to acknowledge. Turning a page on the desk in front of him, he began to record the day’s accounts, nearly not noticing the figure that crept through the window and balanced on the sill.  

  
“What business?” Kaz intoned as he continued inscribing ink into the ledger. It was Inej, a day early and for once with a scent clinging to her: salt water and gunpowder, all of it dangerous as she was.

“I can't feed the crows, Kaz?” She had a smile in her voice. He looked over to see if he was right, and his words were swallowed by the sight of her, of the setting sun weaving gold into her hair and lighting up her eyes, her smiling cheeks. Her ubiquitous braid was missing for once, and as she hopped off the ledge he could see that she held a captain’s hat, complete with a plume of feathers at the band.

_Captain Ghafa. Captain Inej Ghafa._

“Like I said before,” he spoke. “They haven't any manners.

Kaz climbed out of the window with her anyways, the ache in his leg and - dare he say it existed - his heart gone. They situated themselves on the roof, no long glass or plan or job, simply Kaz and Inej, Dirtyhands and the Wraith, feeding crows on the roof of the Slat.

 


End file.
